I know it will feel like tomorrow,
A sunrise of decent day.
It fleets, but the Sun here will stay,
For beams to bloom live, in great aureate,
For things you could not and could say.
Loft rays will sneak into your writing,
And shuffle, in manners of lords,
In spirit of past and proverbs,
An honest and candlish-soft nighting.
So, keys-to-become, in all odds,
Will walk every line, pass the streets,
Create novel locks, cross the channels,
Climb towers for wisdom of elders,
For story to rise from the deep,
Through culmination. Forever
Is entering smiles, intents,
Mistakes, caught in prints from the paper,
In dreams you postponed for a later,
In yesterday's vivid regrets,
And future that's fluid, to aid us.